ered
by the superfluities of education; she loved music, drew the Madonna
della Sedia in chalk, and read the works of Mmes. Cottin and Riccoboni,
of Bernadin de Saint-Pierre, Fenelon, and Racine. She was never seen
behind the counter with her mother except for a few moments before
sitting down to dinner, or on some special occasion when she replaced
her. Her father and mother, like all persons who have risen from small
beginnings, and who cultivate the ingratitude of their children by
putting them above themselves, delighted in deifying Cesarine, who
happily had the virtues of her class, and took no advantage of their
weakness.

Madame Birotteau followed the architect with an anxious and appealing
eye, watching with terror, and pointing out to her daughter, the
fantastic movements of the four-foot rule, that wand of architects and
builders, with which Grindot was measuring. She saw in those mysterious
weavings a conjuring spirit that augured evil; she wished the walls were
less high, the rooms less large, and dared not question the young man on
the effects of his sorcery.

"Do not be afraid, madame, I shall carry nothing off," said the artist,
smiling.

Cesarine could not help smiling.

"Monsieur," said Constance, in a supplicating voice, not even noticing
the tit-for-tat of the young man, "consider economy, and later we may be
able to serve you--"

* * * * *

Before starting to see Monsieur Molineux, the owner of the adjoining
house, Cesar wished to get from Roguin the private deed about the
transference of the lease which Alexandre Crottat had been ordered to
draw up. As he left the notary's house, he saw du Tillet at the window
of Roguin's study. Although the _liaison_ of his former clerk with the
lawyer's wife made it not unlikely that he should see du Tillet there
at this hour when the negotiations about the Madeleine were going on,
Birotteau, in spite of his extreme confidence, felt uneasy. The excited
manner of du Tillet seemed the sign of a discussion. "Can he be in it?"
thought Cesar, with a flash of commercial prudence. The suspicion passed
like lightning through his mind. He looked again and saw Madame Roguin,
and the presence of du Tillet was no longer suspicious. "Still, suppose
Constance were right?" he said to himself. "What a fool I am to listen
to women's notions! I'll speak of it to my uncle Pillerault this
morning; it is only a step from the Cour Batave, where Mon